Hello everyone everywhere,

Well, went to the big city yesterday. The capital city of our province: Edmonton. I went with Michelle and Dean. It was Barb baby’s birthday and I didn’t want to be late. There were a lot of people there. Mostly family I’m thinking. It’s great to be the guy that’s not part of the family because everybody tells you their names and you just say, ‘Sure.”

Back at the studio, the music is just kicking. And it keeps me smiling.

Once again I’m going to delight you with a little piece of work that Michelle and I really busted a gut over.

That’s it.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. Until we meet again at Melbourne and Sandra Sue Sleepknocker’s World Famous Home of Senior’s Axe Throwing and Nature Walk for the Short Sighted. Where the motto is Every grandma deserves to throw an axe and short-sighted people–those aren’t geese coming at you. Easy to find on the corner of Ilovethistub Crescent and Youlivenextdoor Street. Close to where Dick Trousers used to live.


Dancing Couple

The happy face dance was coming up real quick. Everyone in Seersucker Falls, population 301, (oh sorry, Esther Flute passed, population 300) was buying a ticket to the soiree. (That’s Spanish for do you have a toothbrush?)

Now Floyd Fribbett was as excited as a 64 year old man could be. Since Molly was lost to him eight years ago, Floyd had given up the two-step. Though as time went by, (and time can fly or, in Floyd’s case, tick very slowly) he met someone. Oh now slow down folks, we’re not talking sparks flying. We are talking gazes, napkin crunching, and of course that aw shucks feeling.

Her name was Wilma Spindel. Originally from Almost Falls, but her mother married a Spindel so you all see how that worked out. (You do, right?)

Well, anyhoo, Friday night was close so Floyd had to use his good stuff to ensure a date. After four jokes, two bad impressions, and a story that ended worse than it started, Wilma looked at Floyd and said, “Is there a point to all of this or are you just a lunatic?”

Floyd kind of blushed and said, “Wilma, I want to ask you to the dance.”

Wilma smiled and said, “I figured so. Yep, let’s do it. We’ll go for coffee and talk a little first.”

So the next day the two of them were off, and Floyd had a lot of stories. Usually you let the lady talk about herself. But Floyd Fribbett would not shut up!

Friday night came and the people flocked to Morty’s dance hall. Gowns were flowing and men had on their best Sunday suits. Floyd and Wilma strutted into the hall where you could hear Glenn Miller being played really badly by Smoky Toots and his orchestra.

When the night became late and Floyd was all danced out, he had told Wilma so many stories she was falling asleep. Finally Floyd got Wilma home. He stopped the car and said, “Hey Wilma! Did I ever tell you when I worked in Chicago?”

Wilma turned to Floyd and said, “Yeah, I heard it. Phone me next week.”

As Floyd Fribbett drove away, he thought, geez whiz everyone knows that story. Oh well, there’s always next week.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone everywhere,

It’s been another one of those weeks folks. I’ve been running around like crazy. I’ve got a show coming up on Wednesday and I’ve been rehearsing. I’ve been cleaning up my castle. And Michelle makes sure I do all of that, and more.

I heard that yoga is very good for brain injuries and fibro.  My friend Erin is a yoga instructor and she told me to try her class. I waited a few weeks, but last week I yogad. I don’t know if that’s the right term for it but it works for me. (So it’s got to work for you). I found it to be incredibly stimulating. I recommend it for anyone of any age. Go yoga! (And football). That’s it.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and thoughts…if only for a moment…and rest. Until we meet again at Vance and Verna Vichamup’s World Home of Bugs on the Floor and Phobia Stop. Where our motto is If you phobia people think there are things crawling on you, you’re not crazy. There probably are. Operating every second Tuesday at Mr. and Mrs. Kespiter’s garage floor. Seven p.m. to ten p.m. prompt. Then Mr. Kespiters comes home from work, so you phobia guys have to collect all your “friends” while he and Verna sweep up the bugs. We’re situated on the corner of Heyisthatmywalletstreet and Yesimyourwifesoscrewyoulane. Close to Dwight Flemm’s house. Can’t miss it. Dwight likes the open air. So he had his roof taken off. Quite lovely if you’re insane. Sincerely, Vance Vichamup.



Sirens. Buses. Cars honking. Construction. And Herman Shotsky.

Summer. Sun. Patios downtown. Like flowers opening their petals in spring, and we, like bees, hover right to them.

All shops are open and calling us all in, as easily as a warm wind would catch our senses.

On a day so lovely even a mad man should smile. Music playing everywhere. And Herman Shotsky.

People hustling down the busy street. Children laughing, playing–strike up the band and we’ll take a stand, for what’s in demand is the call of the day.

And the old people dance until the final ember of memories applaud their effort.

Little Herman Shotsky weaves his way through the maze as always. But this day Herman takes his gaze from watching out for everyone else. This mistake causes a small collision with a guy (as big as a house) wearing a leather jacket and a sneer.

There is no quick exit or observation to be made here.

Herman looks up at this guy. The guy smiles, pats little Herman on the back and says, “I apologize. I hope you’re all right.”

Herman kind of smiles and rushes away, though he stops once more and thinks that if only for a moment there is beauty in us all. And that calms Herman Shotsky, much like the smile we all get on a hot day or night when, to our delight, the ice cream man cometh.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone, everywhere,

Well it’s been a crazy week. I met some of the neighbours. (That didn’t go too well). I like to start off on a good roll like at my last place. Anyways, this guy was out in his yard with a flipping jigsaw on a Sunday at supper time, so I went out and yelled at him. I mean, I was making chicken!

Okay, that’s enough of that. Other than that it’s been a relatively nice week. I put my vacuum together. Moving on, I’m almost ready to start vacuuming. Moving on again. That’s it on that one.

I’m making Michelle laugh like crazy today, so it’s got to be a good day. That’s it.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts…if only for a moment…and rest. Until we meet again at Fritz and Bunny Hop’s World Famous Paint Ball and Senior Walk. All operated in Joe Findley’s, oops, I mean Edna Findley’s scenic back yard, with lots of trees. Where our motto is Seniors, if you see a big red blob heading right for you, it isn’t your spouse blowing a kiss, so drop to your knees. We are situated right on the corner of Isthatacombover Street and Noandimshavingitalloffanyway Boulevard, right by Felix and Henna Floos’s condo. They have a windmill on their balcony. Can’t miss it.



Wilbur Snootski is a walker. He loves to take an afternoon stroll up and down the “strip”. (That’s old talk for the happening street). Which gives Wilbur more time to press his pants and make sure his shoes are shined. So, off he goes. Wilbur thinks that if you see enough things and scrutinize enough people, it’s all good. That is, if you keep walking, because Wilbur is a walking man.

He gets caught up with this thought or another. It is this preoccupied veil that, wellllll…seems enough. (Flippin’ be yougalls). Cars drive by and if they look at Wilbur walking, he yells, “No thanks, Bob! I’m walking, don’t you see.”

Wilbur had a dog. He passed. Now Wilbur only has the leash to walk. It’s all good. As he walks back home, Wilbur August Snootski sees people hanging laundry in the front yard. On a string from their porch to a tree! They are hanging their laundry! And all Wilbur could think was, Mother would not like this. Oh no, she would not! She’d have been MORTIFIED! Eyes darting side to side. “What’s that? I used to have one of those. Hey, what do we have here?” And so on, as Wilbur’s thoughts escape his mind.

The sky starts to rumble. Wilbur laughs and thinks, they’re bowling up there again! (Mother always thought that one was a ripper). Walks over. Must be home.

Exhausted but happy, Wilbur Snootski looks up at the sky and thinks, step by step I’m taking back my life.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone, everywhere,

This week has been action packed to say the least. We had a concert on Wednesday; that went well. I did a lot of cleaning and working in my castle and Michelle and I went to Walking With Our Sisters at the museum. Walking With Our Sisters is a display of moccasin vamps (tops) to represent missing Indigenous women. My good friend Lisa Lacroix told me about this because she made one of the vamps in the show. It is hard to imagine that so many beautiful women are gone. Thank you, Lisa, for letting us take the journey. That’s it.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment….and rest. Until we meet again at Sam and Stella Upright’s World Famous Home of Floor Hockey and Serene Garden Walk. And thanks to my Auntie Maude, we’ll be doing it all in her yard with plants and such strewn around the outside of the hockey rink. Our motto is Smell a rose but wear a helmet.  You’ll find us on the corner of Didyouspittobaccyonmycarpet Crescent and Youbetcha Drive.  By Fred Spinner’s place. He likes to wave, but look out; he will walk out on the street to do it.


Shadow Man

“Hey, I saw you,” kids chanted on the corner. For a minute, no…nobody catches the shadow man.

In the dark, the shadow man shines like snow falling and dancing, using hoar frost as a back drop.

Downtown Swanzee Falls is prey to the stares of reluctant neighbours.

Headlights cruise the night. Eyes flash signals.

The shadow man smiles and hears the music that molded who he would be, then and now.

Distance, he thinks, would repel obscurity, and a cold wind could keep the senses sharp. (Didn’t see it coming, did you?)

Quietly, with all the dignity he felt needed to be brought to the table, he bowed. Took the walk he needed, and the shadow man just…left.

That’s all.




By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone, everywhere,

You know, I keep waiting for these days to warm up, and they finally have (thank you very much for that), but the last few have been a bit dicey. In other words I haven’t been all that happy. That’s the weather report.

As I said last week, Michelle and I went and saw the Whitney Rose concert. She’s a good talent and they’re a good band. It was a small venue, and a lot of Michelle’s family showed up, so it was a real laugh.

That’s all I’ve got for now. I’ve got a live show on Wednesday and another one at the end of the month, and then we’re going in to the fall. That’s it for now.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. Until we meet again at Frederick and Yolanda Burnack’s Home of Tree Climbing For Those Are Afraid to Fall and Our Famous Cat Calling Section. You’ll find us this week at Barnie Blinner’s back yard. He’s got a good tree in the yard. And of course, to make new friends, the cat callers will be there to cheer you on. Our motto: If you can’t make it all the way up the tree, don’t worry, the cat callers will be right there. Barnie’s place is on the corner of Idontthinkso Boulevard and Watchmego Crescent. Across the street from Edith Bloomer’s. You can’t miss her. But if she doesn’t take to you, she’ll bark.



It all started with the breaking of glass. Then wind, oh like never had been felt in Forbidden Falls.

And a darkness. It crept over everyone. (I am the night). Grey turned black.

Since the mine shut, most everybody had left Forbidden Falls. Some stayed for tourists. You know, a couple of gas stations, one or two stores. That says it.

Those who stayed really had nowhere or no one to go to.

And darker it got. You could already hear the rain starting to kiss the leaves.

Destiny has found perhaps twenty people all together. To put foot in the dirt, scuff their little line of solidarity.

Sometimes, no matter what the obstacle, regret may own the memories. But those who made their mark in the dirt are truly ready to face the hostility of the day.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson